Unmoving Mountains

Mountains, so stoic Standing so tall and so grand, Etched upon the world's memory As the sole witnesses to the beautiful ballet Danced by Time Mountains, so bold Yet bidding me to move them To be where I want them to be; Standing on a timeline Whose flow accords to the harmony Of my innocence Each attempt, though, Brings me back to the same square Thereby reminding me That I am naught but a tiny particle Faced with their might For, Clocks run clockwise Clocks cannot dance backwards Clocks control our lifespans, our memories And even the hurt that we have watered So well in our secret gardens That these have bloomed into exquisiteness Mountains then, shall still be standing after My presence shall morph into fumes Mountains shall write of the new ballet shows That they shall witness Keeping silent and stoic As if, The world's drama is macrocosmic Even if we all live it at a microcosmic level!